


For the Boys

by Elvichar



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drag, Humor, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 18:56:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elvichar/pseuds/Elvichar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drag shows really weren't his thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**1994**

She wasn't really a woman, Captain John Sheppard, USAF was aware of that. If she had really been a woman then it wouldn't have been anywhere near as much fun watching the show.

It there was one thing guaranteed to pick you up after a week like they had had it was a USO show. They always featured acts that you would never in a million years bother going to see back home – but in some strange way they always did the job. Camaraderie was guaranteed during and after these things.

It wasn't too bad for a drag show, either. Sure it was a little cheesy and some of the 'girls' were a bit on the masculine side – but he kind of liked it when he could tell they were guys.

Back when he had been stationed in Thailand for a few month he had seen his fair share of ladyboys and, fascinating though they were, they were a bit too far down the lady side of the road for him. If he wanted a real girl he could get one.

Drag queens though – proper honest to goodness, dressed up like a dog's dinner and way too over the top to be real ladies... they were something else. He kind of admired their spunk.

Now this one in particular was clearly a man. Absolutely no way you could think otherwise – unless you had drunk a few too many of the free beers they had laid on for the troops as a morale booster.

Sheppard had a feeling Dex and Mitch had certainly had a few too many because they were looking at the stage with wide-eyed wonderment. If he didn't know better, Sheppard might start to think they didn't even realise this was a drag performance.

The blond one had a good pair of legs, though - Sheppard had to give him that. He was even kind of cute, really. The other two were Ok, but if you'd seen one Andrews Sisters tribute act you'd pretty much seen them all.

"The redhead's mine!" Dex slurred happily.

Sheppard considered clueing him in, but thought it would be more amusing not to.

 

Rodney had only said yes to this in the first place because they wouldn't let him do his piano solo otherwise. It was a trade off.

That said, he had started to get in the swing of things after the second or third show and now, six months into the gig, he had actually started enjoying this nonsense.

It was hard trying to make a living as a composer, especially when you insisted on keeping the musical purity of your work. So four months after leaving college he had decided not to bother - the hunger and a complete lack of any recognition had caused him to re-evaluate his priorities. Being a starving artist wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

He joined the army, because it seemed like a good idea at the time. He hadn't even been a US citizen at the time, but they had said it didn't matter. And as long as they were going to give him food, shelter and some sort of direction, who was he to argue? He had not seen Private Benjamin at the time, and if he had he probably would have reconsidered.

After basic training it was pretty clear he was never going to be combat material and they agreed with him when he said his talents could best serve everyone if they let him into the band.

A year after that he gave up all hopes of a military career (they had agreed that it was probably best if he left quietly) and had worked out that it was possible to make some money from his music if you compromised just a little occasionally.

He had joined the USO anyway – he liked being around service people in a civilian capacity. It was less pressure in many ways. Of course it didn't pay, but that was fine – he felt like he was giving something to the service men. And it wasn't as if he hadn't got a lot out of it. He was considering going back to college after this – maybe studying something a little more practical than music this time, but the term didn't start for a few months and Rodney wasn't entirely sure physics was the way to go yet anyway. Maybe he had left it too late.

So here he was, playing Patty, to Cy and Joey's Maxene and LaVerne, and loving every minute of it. It was amazing how much of a kick he got out of it, really.

And if he hadn't been pretty sure it was just a trick of the light, he would have sworn that good-looking airforce guy in the front row was giving him the eye.

 

The pianist was OK. He was playing some sort of Hooked-on-Classics medley. It sounded all right to Sheppard, although the man was hardly a Liberace when it came to shownmanship. That probably wasn't a bad thing.

It was only when the guy started on the opening few bars of I Walk the Line and grinned into the audience before launching into a piece that lurched from Johnny Cash to Nirvana, though Madonna and ending up with The Sex Pistols that Sheppard realised the guy was the blonde from the Andrews Sisters act.

The guy grinned again – straight at Sheppard this time.

He hoped the strange fluttering in his stomach was just a reaction from a bad hotdog, because if he was feeling what he thought he was feeling, boy was he in trouble.


	2. 2

There was a meet and greet in the Officers' Mess afterwards. No enlisted men invited - because they might bother the performers. Sheppard decided to play it cool. He wanted to talk to the piano guy but he didn't want anyone noticing that he really wanted to talk to the piano guy.

The performers were all dressed in the last costume they wore in the show - so while two of the Andrews Sisters were still in their fake uniforms and full makeup, the blond one (not so blond without the wig though) was wearing a jacket and tie.

Sheppard was fairly sure Dex was going to embarrass himself by making a pass at one of them - but he had the excuse of extreme drunkeness, knuckleheadedness and the fact that he could legitimately say he really thought it was a girl. Ridiculous as that was. Offstage, there was no way those two looked like women.

He had no such out-clause if something inadvisable happened. Of course it wasn't going to happen. The loops in his stomach were caused by indigestion. Of course they were.

So he was going to have to go the long way round. He smiled at the piano guy, who was stood nervously at the bar.

"Hey - you were in the show, weren't you? Buy you a drink?" He thumped the guy on the back - in a manly way. The guy jerked forward and coughed, so Sheppard figured maybe he had overdone it a little.

The guy recovered himself and smoothed down his lapels. "Sure. Why not. Beer - but not Sol. Nothing with any hint of a wedge of lime or lemon or anything."

Sheppard ordered the drinks and turned back to the guy. "So your friend over there seems to be getting on with my buddies," he said good-naturedly. First rule : plead ignorance. It was amazing what you could get away with if you pretended it was all a joke, a mistake or a misunderstanding.

Right now Dex looked like he was set for a mighty big shock when he woke up tomorrow morning.

"Yes. It certainly seems so." He held out his hand. "Rodney McKay. I'm the pianist."

"The ....? Oh yeah - the piano player." Sheppard nodded slowly before passing the beer over. "I'm Captain Sheppard. First name John. Buddies call me Shep."

"Mind if I just call you Captain?"

"That would be fine." Sheppard tried not to show his disappointment and decided to plunge straight in. "So, the one who played the blond Andrews Sister not joining us? Is she ill?"

"Excuse me? What?"

"Well the other two are here - so I figured the blond one must be indisposed."

"Yeah. Indisposed. Obviously."

Sheppard paused and narrowed his eyes. "Hey, you two kind of look alike - is she related to you?" From the confused look on Rodney McKay's face Sheppard guessed he wasn't sure if this was a joke or not.

"Yeah - she's my sister," he said eventually, after a swig of beer. "My twin sister... Petunia."

Sheppard tried not to laugh. "She kind of reminded me of Uma Thurman - tell her that for me."

McKay's eyebrows shot up. "Uma Thurman? Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am. She was a very attractive young lady."

"What, is that air force humour? I tell you what - I'll be sure to tell her that, Captain. Maybe you two can shack up together or something."

"Really? That would be fantastic!" Sheppard was really beginning to enjoy himself here. Although he wondered if he had already gone too far.

 

Rodney peered at the man. He couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He must be, mustn't he - but which bit was the joke? "So, let me get this straight: you want me to pimp out my own sister?"

"Could you?" The Captain looked at him with puppy dog eyes.

Rodney was torn between being enraged, faking enragement and just being amused by this farce. This Captain Sheppard couldn't really believe what he was saying - could he? "Well... I... Listen, we're only here for a week. I doubt very much my... sister would want to get involved with a serviceman who she may never see again... And...." Rodney blushed when he realised how that must sound, given the present circumstances and where they were. "Not that I am saying you could die any minute or anything... It's just that... Oh crap." He knocked back some more beer.

Over the other side of the room Cy was looking extremely uncomfortable while a burly officer oggled him. Meanwhile Joey probably needed to lay off the tequila, because he looked like he was actually enjoying the attention he was getting from the guy's buddy. Rodney decided he was going to have to rescue them both. They were perfectly capable of dealing with it on their own under normal circumstances, and probably had the situation in hand already - but Rodney wasn't sure if he had his own situation in hand. A diversion seemed like the best solution.

"Excuse me a moment," he said. "I need to save some people from themselves."


	3. 3

Rodney made to stride towards his friends, but was stopped by a hand on his arm."Hang on, buddy - do you need some help?" Sheppard said. He had a sudden flash of the problems that could occur if Mitch and Dex carried on flirting with the two Faux-Andrews-sisters. It probably wouldn't be pretty.

"I can handle it, thanks," Rodney brushed the arm away.

For a moment Sheppard stayed at the bar, watching as the other man dealt with the situation.

From here he could only see the gist of the conversation - read the piano guy's expressive lips. Rodney, wasn't that his name?

Sheppard was so distracted by the sight that he almost didn't notice Mitch taking a swing at the guy.

He rushed over to Rodney's prone body.

"Mitch - what the hell were you thinking?" He yelled as he bent down to check if Rodney was Ok.

"He was trying it on with my new girl, Shep," Mitch slurred.

Sheppard looked up to see if he was serious, then at Mitch's 'new girl', who looked distraught and a little glazed with shock.

"Maybe you two should go get some shut-eye, I can handle this, Ok?" Sheppard said appeasingly. Mitch and Dex sidled away, propping each other up.

As no MPs had arrived yet, indeed everyone else seemed to be studiously ignoring the situation, Sheppard felt he should take over and at least attempt some sort of restitution. He was a little afraid Mitch, and Dex, might start punching the 'girls' if the truth got out.

Rodney stirred on the floor, "Wha...what happened?" He murmured.

"Shh. Don't make any sudden moves," Sheppard said gently. Then, "Hey girls - maybe you should get him back to where you're staying. You can deal with it right?"

"Sure," Faux-LaVerne said, batting her ridiculously long fake eyelashes for emphasis.

"Yeah," Not-Maxene said, catching on. "We can handle it from here."

Sheppard smiled and stood up. "Cool, maybe Rodney's sister can help dress his wounds." They looked a little confused but nodded at him anyway, in the well-timed unison of performers well-used to working together to get their act just right. What the hell, he couldn't resist adding: "Oh, and if he doesn't remember any of this in the morning tell Patty I thought she was excellent tonight. Really beautiful."

"Yeah, we'll tell her," Faux-LaVerne smirked. "Anything else you want her to know?"

"Yes, actually - are you performing anywhere else before you go back home. I thought maybe I could drop in backstage. Maybe get her some flowers or something - chocolate maybe."

The two of them were helping a dazed-looking Rodney to his feet now. Not-Maxene looked up. "Not lemon-cremes... She, er... She can't eat them."

"I'll remember that. Funny - does it run in the family, aversion to lemon? Rodney mentioned he was allergic, Petunia is too then?"

"Petunia, who the hell is...?" Not-Maxene started before faux-LaVerne discretely nudged her.

"Oh! Yeah - his sister Petunia," every word was distinctly enunciated. "He told you her name was Petunia." A short laugh escaped.

Sheppard was having way too much fun here, but Rodney probably needed some medical help (or at least a cold-compress and some asprin) and it would be best if he just let the girls take it from here. "I'll let you go, then," he said. "But remember what I said."

"About telling Petunia? Of course. We're at the army base tomorrow, by the way. We can leave a notice at the door to let you in and backstage - we'll say you're with the band," Faux-Laverne winked lasciviously. With that they gently helped the still slightly out of it Rodney to his feet and out the door.

Not-Maxene gave him a mock salute as she (or he, whatever) left, and Sheppard returned the gesture with a grin. He never really paid much attention to protocol, but she was dressed as a WAAF, with four whole stripes on her arm and a nifty little hat on her head - so technically she outranked him. Even if she wasn't actually an officer she was most-certainly a gentleman.

 

Back in the quarters that had been assigned to the three of them, Rodney sprung into full-consciousness.

"Hey, you're awake," Cy said, gruffly. "Looks like we won't be pressing charges against that big goon then." He was still wearing the LaVerne outfit; hadn't had a chance to change yet.  
Charges?" Rodney's eyes fluttered.

"You remember Ok - we don't want you forgetting any lyrics onstage? Boogie-Woogie Bugle Boy still in there ready to burst out?"

"Of course," Rodney said primly. "I wouldn't forget our big hit."

"Big hit? Yeah - well it goes down well, but I wouldn't go that far. Good there's no lasting damage anyway. I'll get to bed myself then." Joey had already hit the sack, not having the patience to sit up to see if Rodney was Ok, and not particularly caring. It was Cy who had a crush on him, Cy could deal with it just fine on his own. They had considered getting a doctor, but Rodney had a thick-skull, they figured he would be fine. "Goodnight then." Cy shut the door quietly behind him and left Rodney in his bed, looking up at the ceiling.

He didn't notice that Rodney had started singing Don't Sit Under The Apple Tree quietly to himself, and probably wouldn't have thought anything of it if he had.

Rodney kept singing, lulling himself to sleep, thinking about that handsome young air force officer.


	4. 4

He had a few days R and R so there was no good reason not to go to the army base that night. John debated whether to go in full-dress uniform but on reflection decided casual would be better. That way nobody from the army would have any ammunition to start any more rumors about air force foibles.

By the time he got there the show was already half over. John was ushered backstage and told to wait in the dressing room. When he got there he found 'LaVerne' and 'Maxene' out of wigs and uniform, wearing jeans and sweaters (it was a cold February evening), drinking coffee and chatting amiably.

"Hey," John greeted them.

"Oh, hi. Glad you didn't chicken out," one of them said. John wasn't entirely sure which of the Andrews Sisters he was - out of make-up he had no way of telling.

John was not sure if keeping up the pretense that he had thought they were women would work now he was confronted with the evidence that they clearly weren't. Those were very tight jeans. He was about to say something flip and witty along those lines when the reason he was here flounced through the dressing room door. Flounced was definitely the word too - Rodney was not dressed in the Andrews Sisters uniform, but he was definitely still wearing ladies' clothes. Full evening dress in fact.

Rodney saw him and smiled seductively.

John was a little confused by this turn of events. He had expected Rodney McKay to be changed into definitely-male piano playing clothes by now. John had, up until now, a vague plan to go backstage, reveal he knew exactly what was going on, then they would all chuckle and John could maybe take all three certainly-not-Andrews-Sisters to dinner to make up for the harassment they had got from his friends the night before. Or even better they could go to a bar and get drunk together.

And if during the course of that encounter, under the inhibition-lowering effect of the alcohol, John should get over-effusive and start coming on to Rodney McKay, then nobody would have any cause to blame anyone. These thing happened, after all, it didn't mean anything. Really.

Now that plan was not quite as clear.

It was especially confused by Rodney's next move - which was to put on even more make-up.  
"Uh - I thought the show would be over by now," John said uncertainly, turning to probably-not-Faux-Maxene.

"Yes it is. " The man frowned.

"Are we going to dinner, then, Sweetie?" Rodney - or Patty, Petunia or whatever the hell Rodney's alter-ego was called. If she even had a name.

"Dinner?" John said, voice slightly strangulated. "Don't you want to change first?"  
Rodney looked down. "Yes, I suppose I am rather overdressed," he giggled demurely.

John had to admit Rodney was good at playing along - and after all it was John's joke to begin with, so he probably deserved this - but maybe it was time to drop it now. Unless this was a new game: "how long can we keep this up before one of us admits they were just fooling around?" It was a test of wills now. John decided he wasn't going to be the first one to crack. He didn't like losing unless he had at least put up a good fight first.

He smiled, slowly. "Well, you look lovely, of course - but maybe something a little more practical would be better?"

"Yes. Is that for me?" Rodney gestured to the gift-wrapped box in John's hand. He had forgotten he had come bearing gifts.

"Oh. Yeah - I hope they're the sort you like. I wasn't sure. I was told no lemon cremes, but apart from that..."

Rodney put a finger to his lipsticked mouth and pouted slightly. "Chocolates? But they'll ruin my girlish figure." He batted his thickly-lashed blue eyes.

John had to admit that, even if he was overdoing it slightly, Rodney was pretty good at acting like a 1940s version of ideal womanhood. Betty Grable on crack. He had seen enough of those films to know how to go with this - sometimes in lieu of any new releases the morale-committee had to screen fifty-year-old prints of all those old 'classic' movies that someone had found in a box in one of the storerooms at the air force base. The prints were pretty warped and dusty, but the ones that didn't explode when the film cans were opened were good for a few hours entertainment.

They all had he same plot, as far as John could tell: dashing airman visits his vaudeville-sweetie backstage, they flirt, someone's dress gets torn, and they end up mooning and spooning by a silvery lake in a boat. Then they argue before, in the last reel, they admit they were both stupid and both in the wrong. Possibly someone sells their own hair to pay for a bow for the other's violin and then finds out that the violin got sold to pay for a hair clip. They kiss chastely and the music swells to a crescendo. The End.

John looked around at Maxene and LaVerne to see whether they were in on all this. They both looked mildly disturbed by it all, if truth be known.

Maybe-not-LaVerne coughed. "Um... Are you really going ahead with this?" He nodded meaningfully towards John.

"Of course, silly," Rodney smiled.

What the hell, John thought and crooked his arm, gesturing for Rodney to grab it. If the man was prepared to go out dressed like that just to win what was probably a bet with his friends, John may as well oblige. "So, what do you want to do this evening?" He asked. "Dinner, dancing, a walk in the moonlight while I pick flowers for your hair?"

If this really was a movie there would be a soft-focus gauze on Rodney right now. The look on his face was convincingly 'bowled over by romance'.

"Kiss me first," he said breathlessly.

"Uh..." John paused then he grinned as though he had just twigged something. "Yeah, alrighty..." He was damned he was going to be the first to cave here. He took a deep breath and then went straight in, holding Rodney's face gently.  
He could hear a gasp from the other two people in the room.

The lipstick tasted of cherryade and, for some reason, coconut, but there was an underlying tang of coffee. Maybe it wasn't just the lipstick.

The kiss lasted longer than he had intended, and it did more than prove a point. John pulled away and gazed at the blissed out expression on the other man's face. "I'm just going to try that again if that's Ok, " he said, before going in for seconds.

He wondered if the music swelling to a crescendo was real or in his head.


	5. 5

John didn't want to pull away from that second kiss. He could have stayed here all night - he would have preferred it, since Rodney was determined to stay dressed in his costume and, good as he looked in it, there was room for all sorts of embarrassing shenanigans if anyone he knew saw them together.

He could hear a cough from one of the not-Andrews sisters and he took it as an excuse to pull away.

"The services have sure changed since I was in uniform," one of them said, raising an eyebrow.

John smiled shyly, the 'aw, shucks' smile that got him out of so much trouble.

"Are we going to dinner, then?" Rodney said with a little flick of his wig.

"Sure, if that's what you want. We could go... somewhere else though," John kind of hoped the somewhere else would involve a nice, quiet, anonymous hotel room. He wasn't being given an easy ride here, he thought ruefully.

"Of course that's what I want - I'm starving to death here."

"What about your 'girlish figure'?" John tutted.  
Rodney looked slightly put out at that, John's previous experience with women had taught him that they took almost everything as a crack about their weight. Of course, present evidence notwithstanding, Rodney McKay wasn't a woman. He surely wasn't going to take this that far, was he?

"All right, have it your way" John continued, wondering how they were already on to the lovers' tiffs stage. He could have done with more of the loving before the relationship progressed that far.

The other man sashayed towards the door, and John had to admit he was impressed by the move. He was certainly paying attention to detail.

"Are you coming then," Rodney paused at the door and smiled seductively.

Any minute now if you keep looking at me like that, John thought.

 

It was a quiet, out of the way restaurant that was known for its discretion. John was also pretty sure no-one from the Airforce would be there.

Which, considering what Rodney was doing to his ear right now, was a very good thing indeed.

He pulled away as the waiter came to take their order.

"Sir, madame," he said, pointedly, before launching into a stream of German.

John nodded and ordered for both of them. It seemed easier and more gentlemanly that way and he was determined to play along for a long as Rodney kept this up. He moaned slightly as he felt a hand on his thigh.

He tried to continue nonchalantly. "You know I could get used to this, might expect more of the same. Although I didn't realize you were quite this keen when we had that talk in the Officers' mess."

The hand was removed suddenly. "What talk?"

"Ah. No, you're right - that was your brother, wasn't it," John's mouth quirked into a wry smile but he silently cursed himself for breaking the illusion.

"I... I..." Rodney blinked and then held his head. He pitched forward slightly and John leaped forward to grab him before his head hit the table - but he was a fraction too late.

"Are you Ok, " John asked as Rodney leaned back in his seat.

"Ow," was the only reply he got - at first , and then, "What the hell am I doing here with you?" Rodney glared at him.

John was little taken aback by the blunt response. "I tried to catch you before you hit the table!" He protested.

"Wha...? No, I mean..." Rodney looked down at himself suddenly. "I'm wearing women's clothing!" he suddenly announced.

"Well, yes, you are," John rolled his eyes. Of all the places to admit the pretence, the middle of a crowded restaurant was not his first choice.

"Why?" Rodney stared at him petulantly.

"Because you look fetching in them?" John was suddenly reminded of the scene in Bringing Up Baby where Cary Grant, wearing a negligee, explained it away by saying 'I just went gay all of a sudden.'

"Oh, god, am I wearing make-up too?" Rodney touched his hand to his mouth, smearing the lipstick.

"Can we just go back to the kissing?" John said ,sotto voce. "That was kind of more fun." Less vocal, for a start.

"There was kissing?" Rodney said, shocked.

"Look, can you just let me know what's going on?" John scratched the back of his head distractedly, "Because I thought I knew, but now I'm not so sure."

"Last thing I remember was you were making some stupid crack about taking my sister on a date, and then..."

"And then you had a sudden bout of amnesia and woke up here, with your hand in some pilot's pants?" John suggested. Of all the lame ways of getting out of a bad date, this was one of the lamest. It was a pity, John thought, he had been having a hell of a lot of fun himself.

"My hand was not in your pants!" Rodney said with an affronted tone. Then, more quietly, "was it?"

John sighed. "So, do you want to wait for dinner, or should I take you back to where you're staying right now?"

"Oh, a fast worker, eh... trying to take advantage of a poor innocent girl."

"Yeah, because of course that would be you. Totally innocent."

"Well, I'm not a girl either - talking of which - explain." He gestured to the floaty outfit.

"Well, I'm no fashion expert, but as ensembles go, I think it kind of works" John shrugged.

"Did you drug me and dress me up?"  
Rodney's eyes narrowed.

"No!" John protested. "Jeez, as if I would do something that sleezy. This is your big joke, remember. I was just playing along - having a little fun with you along the way. I thought you were playing me," He admitted, leaning forward.

"Huh."

John rubbed his temple. "If this is revenge for Dex hitting you, I understand. I just thought we were making a connection here."

"Someone hit me? Oh," Rodney said affronted. Then, more quietly. "I think I owe you an apology. And it's possible I really need to seek medical attention."

"Yeah - two knocks on the head in less than 24 hours can't be good for a person. "

The waiter came with their appetizers and Rodney slumped into his chair. "I really am hungry," he admitted.


	6. 6

They ate their food in silence. As the waiter came to clear away the plates John said, "So what now, do you want me to just take you home?"

"Maybe you should take me to see a doctor." Rodney snorted.

"What for? What's he going to say: 'that colour really matches your eyes?'"

"I clearly have concussion or something - why else would I be here with no recollection why - dressed like this!" Rodney made a flippy movement with his hand.

"I suppose I can't just carry on pretending I think you're your own sister - it kind of lacks that stamp of veracity now, doesn't it." John smirked.

Rodney glanced at him, a little surprised. "Veracity? And here I was thinking you were some random grunt."

John peered at him. "Yes - because a grunt's going to spring for dinner with an attractive young piano player just because..." John paused. "Uh, skip that. Let's just pretend I haven't just revealed more about myself than I meant to - dessert?"

"Seriously - you're one of those people with all the depths aren't you? Never quite got to grips with that type." Rodney huffed.

"So is that a 'yes' to dessert? We can eat and then maybe I can walk you back to yours and we can regroup. I doubt this has gone the way either of us planned." John sighed. It could have been fun, but now he wasn't sure what was going on. Maybe it would be best if he just went back to the room he had rented for the night and contemplated the ceiling. In a matter of weeks he was likely to be back in combat and maybe that would mean he would never have to think about anything again. Maybe oblivion wasn't a completely bad thing. He was always trying to find something to live for and it looked like, yet again, he'd gone bust. Although, he thought ruefully, certainly not that comforting, womanly sort of bust.

'I had no plans," Rodney stared at him wide-eyed. "Seriously - I don't have a clue how I got here. I wasn't making that up. Here - you didn't think I meant to..." He looked down at the dress again "I am never going to live this down. One punch in the head and now I'm going to have a reputation forever."

John grinned in spite of himself. "We'll always have Berlin."

"What?" Rodney frowned. "Oh, hang on, is that some sort of Casablanca reference. I don't think it's really relevant here. I'm not working for the resistance and you don't run a bar in Morocco."

John dipped his head and laughed.

"You think that's funny?"Rodney said, irritated. Then he smiled. "Yeah, you think I'm funny. Does that mean you're making fun of me or that you like me?"

"I like you Rodney. I really do. I have no idea why. Now - ooh, they have sachertorte - want some?" John smiled behind his menu.

"You gay military types are an enigma," Rodney tutted.

"Yep, looks like - an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, tied with a riddle. And a great big pink bow." He would have preferred not to have been referred to as a 'gay military type' but he could hardly deny evidence to the contrary. Not without making this situation even more complicated than it already was.

Rodney shook his head. "I should probably get changed. Don't suppose you have any spare clothes you could lend me?"

"At my hotel," John said as if it were a revelation. He hoped that didn't look like too much of a come-on. Although maybe that's what the other man had meant it to be. Maybe he was being manipulated into this. In which case Rodney was sneakier than he'd given him credit for. The man might even be a genius. This way maybe they'd both get something out of this without either of them losing face. Or at least losing more face than they had already. "Do you play chess, by any chance?"

"As a matter of fact I do. Why?" Rodney said innocently.

"No reason," John nodded a little to himself. That explained a lot. Thinking ten moves ahead, the queen can move any which way. He signalled for the waiter. "Check."


	7. 7

It was cold outside. That was the thing about April - it could go either way.

John wasn't too bothered - he was wearing the thickest warmest non-Air Force Issue coat he owned. His companion had clearly not thought through his own outfit choice.

The light, diaphanous evening gown was hardly a practical outfit for a chilly early-spring night. Although John couldn't really foresee any time where it would be a practical choice. He wondered whether he should just offer his coat to Rodney and decided after a few paces and a rather over-dramatic shivering from the other man that it would be a lot easier and less embarrassing for everyone if he did just that.

"Thanks," Rodney said, as he drew the coat around himself, teeth chattering.  
The air base was on the other side of the city and there was no reason to suppose that John might run into anyone he knew around here. The whole area was, technically, out of bounds - thanks to its reputation. So, the distinctive voices of Mitch and Dex seemingly coming from around the corner were disconcerting.

"Come on, baby - you know you can't resist me!" the Mitch-sound-alike growled.  
John froze in place, grabbing his companion by the arm. He didn't want his friends to see him here, he would have a lot of explaining to do - they were bound to be sober enough to recognise his companion as the male piano player from the show now. Although the voices did sound rather the worse for wear.

He was taking no chances - the footsteps were getting closer, his buddies would be rounding the corner any second.

"You kind of like me, right?" John looked at Rodney anxiously, only to met by a frown. "Never mind - just go with me here," he continued, before shoving the other man against the wall and moving in for a kiss. The light here was poor and if Mitch and Dex couldn't tell who he was they couldn't say anything. The last thing he wanted right now was to be recognised. And of course there was the distinctive coat. If they saw that then there would be some explaining to do.

The voices got nearer. There was a buzzing in John's ears as he kissed the unresisting piano player.

"Hey - we disturbing something?" - it sounded like Dex.

"Don't bother them. They look like they're having a good time," Mitch laughed. "You need to show me a time like that, sweetheart."

John had half an ear on what Mitch's companion would say back. He was kind of curious as to the type of woman who would willingly go on a date with the man. Of course he might have paid - it was likely. He imagined both men would be with bosomy blondes called Brunhilde or Lette or Berthe something Germanic and solid to match their build.

"I will, don't worry. I really will, just as soon as we get to the hotel," the other voice said.

John stopped kissing. The other voice wasn't female. The other voice wasn't even unfamiliar. The other voice was Dex.

"Why are you stopping?" Rodney said as John spun around to catch a look at the two figures retreating around the next corner.

"I - I just had a bit of a surprise then..." John said, stunned.

"You had a surprise? How do you think I felt? It's not every day I find myself dressed up in costume, being kissed in dark alleyways by handsome airmen you can't even remember agreeing to date."

John smiled slowly. "You liked it though?"

"I would have thought that was obvious. I didn't punch you in the mouth did I? Not that I am a violent man - quite the contrary, actually."

"I'd like to discover what kind of man you are - want to go back to my hotel and show me? In detail?" John was feeling a little tingly now - maybe it was the lack of coat.

"I thought that was the plan anyway. It's the reason I haven't gone home alone already."

"I thought you were just coming back for a change of clothes."

"Yes - of course. That's the reason," Rodney snorted, dismissively. "Just because I am concussed doesn't mean I'm suddenly stupid. I'm going to turn down someone who looks like you? I don't think so."

"Just so you know - I knew it was you all along. I didn't really think you were your own sister."

Rodney blinked. "Oh."

"That's all you can say? 'Oh'?"

"This is all a bit anti-climactic," Rodney said, a little disappointed.

"Believe me you ain't seen nothing yet. You want climactic..."

"You're very sure of yourself."

They started walking, strangely in step with each other now. With the heels, they were about the same height. It was easy for about six strides, but then the tarmac changed to cobbles.

"Ow. Slow down. This is agony!" Rodney said, suddenly realising what was on his feet. "How the hell do people walk in these things?"

"Take them off if they hurt."

"What - you want me to walk bare foot? You got some kind of fetish about dirty feet?"

"You're already wearing my coat - I can't lend you my shoes as well. Besides, what would I wear?"

"Oh - so it's all right for me to go without shoes, but you wouldn't do it?"

John sighed. "Ok - here have my shoes." He bent down to unlace them and handed them to Rodney.

"Thanks," the other man said. Handing the high heels to John.

They carried on walking. The cobbles were smooth, but it was hard to walk on them. "You know what - I bet it can't be that hard to walk in these things - if women do it all the time it must be possible." He grinned and put the on shoes as Rodney flashed him a look of bemusement.

"Is this a 'walk a mile in their shoes' moment?"

"No it's a test of my manhood."

"I think you're going to pass somehow. Even wearing ladies shoes. Take them off, you look ridiculous - maybe we can have one shoe each or something."

"No - I have to try walking in these now - how hard can it be?"

He took a few steps, unsteady as a colt, before swaying and stopping. "I need a hand here, " he said - grabbing Rodney's arm.

They walked carefully across the cobbled square arm in arm. "I hope the hotel is near because this is going to get a little tiresome very soon," Rodney shook his head.

"I'm kind of enjoying myself. It's a challenge. Besides, it's a good excuse for keeping you here right by my side."

"The word 'schmaltz' springs to mind."

The hotel was very near, as it turned out. The pair of them stumbled through the revolving doors into the lobby where John recovered himself and explained to the incredulous clerk that he had booked a room for the night.

"Dame means lady doesn't it? Never mind... Mit der Dame," John said in his deliberately terrible German. He had never really had a problem learning languages but it amused him to play dumb sometimes.

The clerk whistled though his teeth and John shot him a warning look. He wasn't going to have his date insulted, even if his wig was skewed, the makeup was smudged (that would be all the kissing) and his companion was very,very obviously nothing like 'eine Dame'. Nothing in the world.

"You are the second pair of Americans in here tonight!" The clerk said in English, clearly not impressed by his guests.

"Hey - less with the Americans. Canadian, here," Rodney scowled.

"Canadian? Really?" John said, smiling. " I hadn't realised. That is in the Americas though."

The clerk made a grumbling sound. "Sign here, bitte."

John signed the guest register with a flourish. "There - Mr and Mrs Smith!"

The keys were handed over and the clerk shook his head as they walked away. "Mr and Mrs Smith!" He muttered, loud enough to be heard. "Ya!"

**Epilogue**

They lost touch after that. The USO went on to the far east, then toured Africa for a month and Rodney went with them. Back in the states he decided he needed to get back on the horse and went back to college. It turned out he was as quick a learner as he had always suspected and within a year he had already managed one doctorate and was well on his way to a second. The government was interested in his work and he wasn't going to say no to money and recognition.

John was sent on several top secret missions and wasn't allowed to reveal the locations of any of them. There wasn't time to write and there wasn't anywhere to write to - the letters he had sent were returned, address unknown.

Almost a decade had passed and John had given up trying to find anyone else. Every time he passed a piano bar or saw a poster for a concert he went in, hoping to catch a glimpse of Rodney.

Every time he went away disappointed.

John had even contacted the musicians union, hoping they could put him in touch - but no luck.

He had looked in every continent bar Antarctica.

Then he sat in that chair and saw the whole universe in front of him. He wasn't planning on losing touch this time.

Though he wasn't going to mention the shoes.


End file.
